If I Could Cure Myself
by Amitydoesntkill
Summary: Disclaimer: I own no rights to the characters or story line. Lauren Oliver does. This is a story of Hana and her own deliria problems.
1. Chapter 1

People think I am beautiful.

I stare into the mirror, and try very hard to see the beauty that everyone else sees. My blonde hair flows down past my shoulders, my blue eyes look glazed from happiness, and my body is fit but still curvy. I could see how people say I am beautiful. I am the epitome of glamour.

Still, they wouldn't think I was beautiful if they knew who I was inside. If they knew how I thought, how I _loved, _I would be executed before I was cured.

Love, or amor deliria nervosa, is forbidden in the United States. The government developed the "cure" that is administered to every person when they turn eighteen. The cure completely erases all human notions of love from the mind and soul. The cure takes an individual and turns it into a shell.

I'm to get the cure soon. Tomorrow I get my evaluations. The thought brings a bit of bile into the back of my throat. There is no way I can show it, no way I can even talk about it, but the thought of being evaluated scares me, only because once I am evaluated, only months stand in between me and the cure. That's what terrifies me, the cure.

The cure terrifies me for a few reasons. The first that I could _never _tell anyone is that I am afraid of losing myself. My personality is what I take pride in, and I will lose most of it when I get cured. Many adults tell me how great life is after the cure, how better they feel, but I just can't see it. Of course, it's hard to mourn the loss of one's self when you can't feel.

The second reason is because when I am cured, I will lose my best friend Lena. We are from different social classes, so once we are cured and assigned a career, we won't be able to really interact. Sure, we will be able to see each other, contact isn't forbidden, but it won't be the same.

The third reason I am scared of the cure is because it might not work. Why wouldn't the cure work for me? Well, it's pretty simple. I fall into the category that the United States terms _unnatural. _Being unnatural means that you are attracted to, or may possibly even love, other persons of the same sex.

The thought of being unnatural dulls my appearance. My hair begins to frizz at the ends, my eyes look blank, and my body sags in defeat. If people knew who I really was, how I really loved, they would see the person that I see in the mirror.

People would think that I was ugly.


	2. Chapter 2

It's one of those days, the one where I get up and feel empowered by who I am. The light shines through my windows, and the breeze gently flows in. A smile spreads across my face as I get out of bed and prance around my room. I thrust my door open and skip down the hall to my parent's room. They wouldn't miss my evaluation, they had to be here.

As I reach their door, I hesitate for just a moment. What if they weren't? That certainly could be the case. Both of my parents work for the government, so they are rarely home. My mother works as an evaluator, so she's been sending me tips on how do well for today. My father, well, I'm not sure what he does. His work is very secretive. Deep down I know that whatever he does is for the well-being of Portland. I try not to dwell on what "well-being" would be, but I get a sinking feeling when I do, because it might have to do with taking care of people who think like me. As soon as I start thinking of the possibilities, I push it out of my mind. I will not let my father ruin today for me.

The door to their room opens noiselessly, which causes me to catch my breath. There are two forms lying in the bed. My parents are home.

"Hana?" a muffled voice asks.

"It's me."

My mother sits up and begins to rub her eyes. She stifles a yawn as she crawls to the edge of the bed. "Do you want help getting ready? We can go over answers while you dress yourself."

"Sure, that would be great."

My mother drags herself out of bed and follows me to my room. She glances around, as if she was trying to look for something.

"Hana, have you prepped anything for today?" Her question has ice around the edges.

My cheeks flush as I answer her. "No, I figured that clothes wouldn't matter because I was going to be in a hospital gown anyways. All I planned on was styling my hair and going for a more natural look with my make-up."

My mother bites down on her lip in return. When she does this, she is trying to control her anger. I haven't even begun filling out forms for my evaluation and I'm failing.

"Hana, _everything _matters as soon as you step foot onto the lot. Your appearance, your demeanor, your answers, all of it matters! You want to leave nothing but good impressions, and that includes before and after you walk into your evaluation room! Did you listen to anything I have told you the last few weeks? Did you read any of the notes that I left for you? Hana, I want nothing but the best for you, but you can't achieve it if you do not act like it!"

All confidence that I had drains from my body. "I didn't think of it that way. I'm really sorry; I guess I was just nervous. I did read everything that you sent Mom, and I really appreciate it.'

Her face relaxes as she takes my answer in. "Of course you would be. I'm sorry dear; I forget that you aren't always as strong as you come off." She smiles at me, and then begins picking up various items from my vanity. "We are going to leave your hair relaxed, and your make-up should be natural. The evaluators will know that you come from a more privileged family, so it's best that you appear humble. That will earn you a better score. Come; start working on your face while I find you a casual outfit."

I strip off my pajamas while my mother heads over to my closet. A part of me becomes embarrassed from being almost nude in front of my mother, but I push the feeling aside. When I am being evaluated, I will be wearing a hospital gown that displays my body to the evaluators. There is no point in feeling exposed now in front of my mother when I have to sit naked in front of strangers in a few hours.

"Hana." My mother barks from my closet. "What is your favorite color?"

"Green." I sing back to her. The faint sigh lifts my mood up. She won't yell at me if I am at least giving her correct answers, my mother knows I would not sing out answers later today. My score is too important to risk looking foolish.

"What activities do you like to partake in?"

"Well," I begin, "I like running, I was co-captain on our school's team. Why, do you ask? Being fit is a vital part of being a functioning member of society, and it is in my upmost interest in preserving the sanctity that is Portland."

My mother's eyes narrow at the end of my statement; discussing our society's values is a tricky subject that earns lower scores rather than higher.

"How does one preserve the sanctity of our town?" She asks while she hands over a basic white tunic and brown slacks. She waits patiently while I dress myself, even though I know she is thinking about how I better have an answer ready if I am asked.

"The best way to preserve our town is to rid itself of its threats. This includes making sure all the transitions from childhood to the cure, and the future, are executed smoothly; keeping a careful watch over any possible citizens that could be sympathizers, always keeping a tight rule, and making sure all traces of the deliria and..." my breath staggers a bit. "All traces of the deliria and unnaturalism are eradicated from society."

My mother grins as she begins to run her fingers through my hair. "You'll be fine, dear."


	3. Chapter 3

My mother spent a good two hours fussing over my appearance. My face was painted and wiped clean so many times that I started to see blurs, and my hair was brushed so many times that my scalp stung. Once while my mother rattled off how a difference in tone can change an entire score I tried to sit by the window. I loved sitting at the window as a kid. Until I was thirteen, I wasn't allowed to dine with my parents when an important government figure was over. After I ate, I would pass time staring at the world outside, almost like a bird in a cage that our ancestors used to keep. Pets, what a terrible idea.

Anyways, I tried sitting at the window, because I figured it would calm me. My mother became so furious that I thought for a moment her complexion would remain red. She screamed at me that if I didn't stay near her I would somehow lose the glow she created. I didn't see the logic in this, especially because the window wasn't even open and once we got outside the elements would attack me anyways, but she didn't seem to care.

Around seven or so, my father walked in the room to remind us that being late would be my first offense. My mother stands up to go greet him, and to cheerfully say that we were finished anyways. This is one of the few moments that I could say that my parents were together for my benefit. When I was little and didn't understand the world I lived in, I would cry myself to sleep and wonder that if it wasn't for image whether my parents would really care for me.

I sat stiffly in the chair by my desk. There were few moments that I saw my parents together, let alone without some official with them. They were a handsome couple. My father has slicked back brown hair, smoldering brown eyes and a smooth smile. It was rumored that the cure was a waste of time and resources with my father; that he never cared for women, and only wanted their company for pleasure. From what I understand, he had a trail of admirers until he was cured. It sickens me inside, but I also heard that he had physical relations with many women before my mother. My father definitely didn't need the cure.

A laugh escapes my mother, which brings my attention to her. If I ever wondered what I would look like in the future, all I would need to do is look at my mom. I get all my physical traits from her. Out of the two, it's my mother that cares about me more. She came from a middle class family; her father was a scientist and her mother was a nurse. Even so, they both were low level and made relatively low income for their professions. My mother is the middle child of six, and out of all of them was the only one to make it to a higher class. The official reason is because her scores were spectacular. There is speculation that she was matched with prominent men because she made a good 'trophy wife'.

The archaic term makes me wince. The United States prides itself on making matches based on intellect and demeanor, but there are few instances where that doesn't matter. My mother was likely one of them. It's rare to have someone as beautiful as my mother, so keeping her at a lower class is unthinkable. The same should apply to me actually, but that doesn't stop my mother from pushing me. Staying in my class isn't enough. I have to achieve the best.

"Now Hana," my father began as he took a step towards me. "There is something that I want to talk about with you before we take off."

My stomach turns over a few times. What could he possibly care enough about to talk to me before my evaluations?

"There is a great possibility that the evaluators will ask you about your friends," he says, almost harshly. "If they do, you _must not _tell them that Lena Halloway is your best friend. Do you understand?"

This statement leaves me stunned for a moment. Rage begins to crawl throughout my body.

"How could you possibly say that? Do you even understand what it's like to have a friend like that? No, you probably don't because you're a vile-"

"Hana!" my mother bursts out with. "Listen to your father! I for one agree with the matter, and it could save you from being labeled as a sympathizer, or worse!"

I slightly wince at her "or worse", but find myself focused enough to mutter an apology.

My father is red in the face, and keeps his words low. "I will ignore your outburst on account of your evaluation today. It's normal for teenagers to be outraged with such emotions. But for your sake Hana, for your future, listen to me. Not only does Lena come from a different class, but a close friendship is questionable to evaluators. Having a small group of close friends is a form of deliria to them, and they don't take kindly to it. Of course it isn't punishable, but it certainly makes them question your loyalties and your emotions. If they know for any moment that you only spend time with one girl, they are going to question your socializing skills, which will severely bring your score down and possibly knock you down to another class, but it also brings the government's attention to you after you're cured. They will question if you are able to let go of said friendship. If you aren't, you a person of great interest to them. If they ask, list up to ten names. (Of course, do not list more than two males. This will also lead to questions about your loyalties). Just understand this Hana: You are entering adulthood. Friendships are not going to be the same to you as they are now, so do not act like your friendships now are a matter of life or death to you. If you show any indication otherwise, you will regret it."

His words swirl around my mind and slowly sink in. He would know about matters like this. Both my parents do. They know what answers lead to low scores and the ones that lead to a raid at your house.

My hands start shaking, so I hold them to my side. "I understand father."

He attempts to smile at me and pats my back. "We'll be waiting in the car. You have five minutes."

Both of my parents leave the room, making me feel more alone and lost. I walk over to my nightstand and open the top drawer. Inside is my Book of Shhh, the book that explains the evils of the deliria and the functions of the United States and the country's brave battle against our love. A few of the pages are burnt, and the cover is somewhat damaged. I run my fingers over the burnt pages. It's on the chapter of unnaturalism. When I began to question my emotions and who I was, I turned to my Book of Shhh to confirm what I feared. After reading the chapter over a few times, I became insanely mad. In a rage, I threw the book against the wall, screamed, and ran down the stairs flinging any non-fragile item in sight. I don't remember trying to burn the book, but I will always remember the desperation. Somehow I figured if I could burn the chapter, I wouldn't be wrong. If I could burn my unnaturalism out of the book, I could burn it out of me.

Flipping through the pages, I find the one line that I would read when I had to remind myself of who I really was.

"Unnatural (noun): Person or persons who shows romantic or sexual interest in a person or persons of the similar sex. " [Book of Shhh, "Current Threats to Citizens, Unnaturalism", p. 286]

I hold back tears as I read the last sentence of the chapter.

"Unnaturals are an unfortunate group of sympathizers that have yet to be completely cured. Unnaturals are sinners in the eyes of God, and the worst type of sympathizers that the United States has yet to completely rid of. The United States has made the cure for unnaturalism one of the top priorities in securing the safety of its citizens and the sucess of future generations. Until then, it is encouraged by all law-abiding and loyal citizens to report to authorities if there is any reason to believe that a person is an unnatural." [Book of Shhh, "Current Threats to Citizens, Unnaturalism", p. 309]


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the wait between updates. The last month or so has been really hectic. I apologize for this chapter, I had different intentions for it (like better interaction with Lena for one) but this has been sitting in my documents for too long, and I really have something up my sleeve for Hana's evaluation, so please don't be harsh about this. Thank you for the reviews and notifications, they really mean a lot! Again, this is not the best, but I will make up for it next chapter!**

* * *

><p>As my parents and I head out to the car, I double check to make sure everything is in my bag. For some reason or another, I felt the need to bring my <em>Book of Shhh<em> with me. My parents would think it's a bonus, for if an evaluator saw that I carried it with me I would be deemed law-abiding, but I wasn't thinking of my evaluations when I grabbed it. Deep down, it's probably just a reminder of who I am in the society. My mother sees me fumbling with my bag, and shoves a magazine under my nose.

"Hana, don't bring _books _with you to wait around with. Not only are they completely attention-consuming, God forbid you bring something that relates to the Deliria. They will think you are trying to live vicariously through a character while you wait! Now, take this. Not only are magazines short, to the point, and cover topics relevant to you; but it will look impressive that you are reading into topics concerning your future."

_Home and Family. _A groan escapes from my mouth. My mother shoots a look at me, but I ignore it.

I slide into the back of my father's car, and choose to ignore the banter between my parents. The nerves that were building while my mother and father talked to me are slowly dying off. Maybe it's my parents that make me nervous. They are rarely around, but when they are, they expect so much from me.

The streets of Portland fly by as my father drives closer to the evaluation building. Many people stop what they are doing to stare at our car. Cars are rare in Portland, and many of them do not work. To see a car on the streets means money and power.

My father slows the car down. The building must be near.

"Hana, try your best when you respond to the evaluators," my father begins. "Your entire future depends on this moment. This afternoon is the stepping stone to either a grand future or your possible fall down society."

I begin to retort back, but my mother gives me a look that warns me of the consequences.

"I understand. Thank you, father."

"Good luck, Hana." My mother says as she pats my knee.

A small smile is all I can give her in return, but it seems to be enough. The car slowed to a halt as it pulled near the government building. I suck in a deep breath, hoping that it went unnoticed by my parents. They don't bat an eye, which gives me an overwhelming amount of relief.

"Do you want us to pick you up afterwards?" My mother gently asks.

The offer sits in my stomach, along with the realization that it was in this moment that I wanted my parents by me the most. I look out the window and immediately see Lena with her Aunt Carol. My heart lifts a bit, knowing that I really don't need my parents around.

"No. I will be fine." I tell my mother.

As I step out of the car, I yell out Lena's name. She looks up at me, and tries to wait while being pulled along by her nervous aunt.

After a few moments of me yelling and waving like a fool, I catch up to Lena and Carol. While I catch up to them, the magazine my mother forced me to bring pops out of my bag. A confused expression crosses Lena's face. _Home and Family _is the last thing anyone would expect me to be reading.

"My mom made my bring it… good impression…" I go through the explanation while adding gagging effects. Lena looks amused, but Carol looks horrified.

"Hana!" she whispers with terror, glancing around to make sure no one heard my crude joke. I tell her that we aren't being spied on (yet, to Lena) and start to head towards the labs. Many kids are already lined up, receiving their clipboards and a slot for evaluations.

I hear the final exchanges from Carol and Lena and try to resist rolling my eyes. Lena's aunt takes life way too seriously.

I express this thought to Lena.

She looks off to the building. "Well, it is serious."* Worry begins to set in her face.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: I am truly sorry that I didn't get back to updating this sooner- this fanfic is one of my favorite things to write. Just a lot of my time and energy went towards my grandma, who was diagnosed/died from brain cancer just within a few months. I still have the same intentions on the story. This chapter is a little iffy, I didn't plan on it to come out like this at all. I still like it though. Next one will be evaluations, and it will be a long one :) I love all of you who've taken the time to read this. Please be patient with it- it's like I have to start over almost. I will get it going though!_

* * *

><p>My stomach becomes unsettled as I realize that I probably upset Lena. It's never my intention to upset her; life has already done that too much. Being in line to be evaluated reminds me all too well of Lena and her past. Her mother was a sympathizer, a very hard one to crack at that. No matter how hard the government tried to cure her, there was no saving her. Threw her life away, over a ledge specifically. Left two kids alone, over the deliria. That I couldn't understand- if she was still able to love, didn't she love her kids enough to stay? Of course, love is something I've never experienced, nor parenting. I really shouldn't be judging on either subject. Even so, recently I've started to secretly admire her mother. The system never got her. Her outcome was going to ultimately be death, but it was on her terms.<p>

I really shouldn't stand here in line for evaluations, glorifying deaths as statements against the government.

"Yeah I know, Trust me, I've read the Book of Shhh as much as anyone."* I reply to her, my voice catching a whiny pitch towards the end. I hope with my entirety that Lena doesn't notice it. She doesn't seem to, thankfully. The truth of that statement burned- I'm sure if someone surgically opened my body, my insides would be blackened at the edges like the pages of my Book. Ha, the government probably has a cure for that too.

I try to brush this instance off with a snarky façade, but it only seems to worsen Lena's mood. True horror is spreading over her face, which angers me.

_Why? _I know why. It pisses me off that my timid best friend can't even joke about our lives. We don't have much of it left, and she's willingly letting herself go. It's bad enough that she lost her mother and will lose herself over to the cure; she doesn't need to prance into the government's arms.

_Where is this anger coming from?_

"If they really wanted us to be happy, they'd let us pick ourselves."* The statement is no more than soft grumbling from me, but it's more than enough to evoke panic from Lena. Fortunately we were at the end of the line, far away from the facilities. No one else needed to hear my disapproval of the system. Was it enough to get me a trial and executed before I can be cured?

Lena apparently thought so. She pleaded with me to take it back. Outwardly, I did. I meant what I said. No sane person in the city, in the entire United States would criticize our system without truly meaning it.

Lena goes on to say that they do give us a choice. What an honor, picking among five guys that the government thinks is suitable for me! It's a win-win! We are granted the right to pick our mate, but only if Portland agrees. I'm no fool; my husband will never be strictly my choice.

Oh Lena, if I had a choice there would be no husband for me.

I express the limitations to her, to only get the reply that every choice is limited, and that it was life.

Something inside of me begins to stir- life gave me choices, but the system limited them for me. My choices are lessened than the average individual. Maybe a loyal, natural citizen would be happy with what was handed to them. Not me.

There is no point in arguing anymore. The line is moving, and I quickly decided that I want to live without the government becoming suspicious of me. So I laugh and give her our hand squeeze- the one meant not to worry.

Lena looks grim, but lets the moment pass.

The lines are diverging between the two genders. We are close enough to feel the air conditioning hit us when the door is opened. A nurse walks by, handing out clipboards that we must fill out. Trivial information really, family history and such. Luckily it's just a paper, just a name. My heritage would be enough to gain me points. I glance back to Lena. Some aren't so lucky.

I finally begin to feel the nerves again. I shouldn't have gotten so defensive, so open towards Lena. If those thoughts pursue after I walk in those doors, I'm marked as a concern. Or marked for execution. Am I walking to my death?

I become completely unnerved. I most certainly am walking towards my death. There is no happiness in the system for me. Nothing from a syringe could make my life better. Hell, they haven't developed anything to make my life better yet. I wonder if all unnaturals are bitter like me.

Then it hits me. Nothing from the syringe would change me. Death wouldn't change me, just my existence. My choices are limited, and I choose to be me.

In the heat of this realization, I turn back to Lena. I have to relay my thoughts to her somehow. My true thoughts, my wish for her to be happy. She won't be the same once she walks back out of these doors. Neither will I.

I grab her close, and whisper in her ear.

"You know you can't be happy unless you're unhappy sometimes, right?"*

I see her down the brim of my eyes. I'm truly scaring my best friend today. She dropped her clipboard, probably out of shock. Lena doesn't seem to comprehend what I'm saying to her. I repeat it, pick up her clipboard, and plaster a smile on my face.

My moment with Lena is done, but my moment with the evaluators has just begun.

No matter if it's with science or fear, they can't touch me. I just have to let them think they can.


	6. Chapter 6

As I step into the waiting room, I see many girls who are on the brink of losing it. Some are pulling at the ends of their hair, some are chewing on their lips and cheeks, all of them mulling over their clipboards. A mousy-looking girl looks like she is trying to hold back tears. I can sympathize with them; our government has them all terrified that they might not be suitable, desirable choices. Their lives are really on the line here.

I find that I can only sympathize to an extent. There is an underlying glee that I have drilled in my head about them all being frightened while I'm holding myself together. I can tell I am going to score higher than they are.

A stout nurse comes over to me and glances over my clipboard. She looks extremely bored. It cannot be amusing looking after girls when a majority of them are in some form of panic.

"Hana Tate?" She asks.

"Yes ma'am!" I reply while giving her one of my dazzling smiles. It's show-time.

The nurse is leading me down the hallway that was situated to the left of the waiting room. The walls are a painfully bright white, which is magnified by the bright lights hanging every two feet. There isn't much color; the most that I see is the light blue on the doors and the floor tiles. She stops in front of one of the doors near the end of the hall. She politely tells me that I can change in here, where I can leave my clothes, and reminds me not to take too long.

I look around the chamber. It's not much. No point in wasting my time in here. I quickly strip off my clothing and replace it with the standard gown. As fast as I possibly could, I tie the gown back, making sure that it's not too tight and not too loose. In this moment I notice my palms are sweating; I knew I wouldn't be completely calm. I grab for my pants and wipe my hands down, to turn in one swift movement to make sure my hair is still in its place.

I stand in front of the blue doors, allowing myself five deep breaths. When I push through the door I throw on my best fake smile. I know I have this.

The lights overhead glare down on me, a scare tactic possibly? No matter, instead of tilting my head upwards I stare straight ahead to my evaluators, that fake smile still on my face. In my peripheral vision I see a hospital bed placed against the wall. I want to wonder why they would keep that as the only other decoration in the room, but I find no point in speculating.

"Good afternoon!" I greet them warmly. This causes the evaluators to stir, but not in a negative way. Through the blazing lights I can see that all of them are smiling.

Yes, let's make small talk. I'll say what you want to hear.

The one at the far right end asks for my forms. As I move towards the table to hand them over, I can make out each individual evaluator. There are three females and one male at the opposite end. Unfortunately, due to the lights I am unable to make out details. Oh well, we are all here for me, not them.

"Ms. Hana Tate?" the male at the end calls out.

"Yes sir, I-"I began to say _in the flesh, _but realize that would look childish of me. This is an act, and I have to curb any smart remarks I may have. Instead I give out a gentle sigh, hoping that they wouldn't notice the cut-off.

"Please begin with a little about yourself." I weave a tale about my schooling, about running, about my extra-curricular activities.

"You grew up in a privileged area of Portland, do you feel that affects who you are and what you expect from your life?"

Ugh, first tricky question of the day.

"I feel as if growing up in more privileged part of Portland has granted me a chance to better see how I can serve my community and how it in turn serves me." Smiles, they are all smiles. "My parents made sure to take advantage of our well-being by granting me permission to visit with officials, and by giving me different responsibilities as I aged."

"What was the toughest responsibility that they presented to you?"

I answer without hesitating. "Most definitely caring for my dog, Henry. They bought Henry for me when I was seven. My parents decided that it would be a good idea to introduce me to caretaking without caring for children first. It was decided that he would be my surrogate child, until I was older and more responsible to be trusted with baby-sitting. I had Henry for three years, and caring for him did bring more struggles than cleaning after the house, or watering plants. He ended up getting very sick, and died in the middle of the night a week before my tenth birthday. To this day, I still miss and lo-"

I hear a loud intake of breath. They are shocked.

Shit.


End file.
